


You're My Home

by ThriceDeceased (JMDaniels)



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Drug Addiction, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25560493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JMDaniels/pseuds/ThriceDeceased
Summary: Frankie has had a rough year since the whole heist shit show. It’s been one bad thing after another, leaving him all alone in a dingy apartment and steadily slipping back into old habits. He’s more than a little surprised when a pretty stranger approaches him at a bar and coaxes him into having an actual conversation. Nita guides him into a whole new world that might be just what he needs.(The last sentence of the summary is more of a hint to the series as a whole.)
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Original Female Character(s), Francisco “Catfish” Morales/Juanita Moreno
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	1. Winds Change

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is an idea I’ve had for a bit, and it’s been a little easier to actually type out than the Mando fic I’ve been working on. It’s probably because I’m planning for this to be some sappy, smutty fun while the Mando fic is a bit more involved.
> 
> Also, I don’t speak a lot of Spanish so I’m sorry about any wonky translations.

Frankie sat alone at the bar, nursing his third beer of the night. He could’ve been drinking at his place for cheaper, but the empty apartment just served as a reminder of how alone he’d become in the past year. He’d been able to meet up with the guys a few times since the divorce, but they all had lives. Pope was always traveling to see Yovanna. Will and Benny had each other, even with how often they butted heads. He just had himself, and the few days that he got to spend with little Isabella. He and his ex technically had shared custody, but she kept their daughter most days, afraid of what could happen since he clearly still clung to old habits. He couldn’t really fault her for that, as much as it tore him apart.

He was trying. He really was. But, with all that had happened, it was just so easy to find himself sliding back into shit. And going out to drink on his own so he wouldn’t have to sit in an empty apartment where most of the boxes still sat unpacked because it wasn’t _home_ didn’t come close to his worst night, but fuck, was it sad.

He pulled his hat off and dropped it onto the bar top, running his fingers through his too-long hair. He knew he looked just as much the mess that he felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, Boss.”

Nita raised an eyebrow, gaze flicking across the table. “Oh, Ryan,” she said, mimicking his sing-song tone.

He smirked, gesturing toward the bar. “You’re staring.”

“And?” she asked.

He scrunched his nose. “Little rough around the edges, don’t you think?”

Tiff nudged him with an elbow. “Careful, bucko, she’s paying for our drinks.”

Nita leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms with a small smile. “You should listen to her, pretty boy. You wanna insult my taste, you can buy your own shots.”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just trying to bring you back to the table.”

She hummed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Honest,” he insisted, a grin breaking through.

“You couldn’t kiss ass to save your life, could you?”

Tiff snorted at that and Ryan sighed, clasping his hands behind his head.

“I wouldn’t have the job you gave me if I could, Boss,” he said, giving a quick wink.

Nita rolled her eyes. “Switches exist. You can just go ask Jorge or Monique,” she waved a hand toward the small group of their coworkers on the dance floor. “At least they don’t insult their employer.” She jabbed a finger at him “And fair warning, I am wearing a belt that I’m not afraid to use.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

She slid off of her chair, straightening her shirt before grabbing her glass.

“Where are you going?” asked Tiff.

Nita held up what was left of her bushwacker. “Grabbing another one of these,” she said. A quick glance at the figure at the bar and she smiled back at Tiff. “And testing my luck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She appeared next to him, a hand on the back of the stool beside him.

“Hey, is it okay if I sit here?”

He looked over at her. A soft smile and warm eyes greeted him. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he told her, looking back down at his beer.

“Thanks.”

She set an almost empty glass on the bar and slid onto the seat.

The bartender came over immediately, a broad smile on his face. _“¡Hola jefa! ¿Necesitas otro?”_ He tapped near her glass.

She nodded and jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. _“Y creo que esos idiotas de atrás necesitan otra ronda, si no te importa.”_

He pointed a finger at her and grinned. _“Claro que sí.”_

_“Gracias, señor.”_

Frankie glanced over at the woman beside him as she rested her elbows on the bar and looked up at the lone tv on the wall.

Her eyes flicked to him and he had the decency to feel embarrassed about being caught, face warming.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat a bit, offering a polite, if awkward, smile.

“Hi,” she said softly, gaze now fixed on him.

He sat up a little and met her eyes. “Hey.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. “I’m sorry if this is too forward, but I really just came over here to talk to you,” she told him, lips pulling into a small smile.

His brows shot up. “Oh.”

The bartender breezed past, smoothly placing a new bushwacker in front of Nita before lifting a tray laden with tequila shots and small bowls of lime wedges.

“Just ‘oh’?” she asked, eyes alive with amusement.

Frankie found himself smiling back at her, even as he looked down sheepishly. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting that.”

She shrugged, stirring the chocolate syrup in her drink around. “I do like being unpredictable sometimes. Keeps things fun.”

He turned toward her a little more. “Does it? Probably makes planning a little hard.”

She wagged a finger. “That’s why I said sometimes. I have responsibilities that require forethought on occasion.”

“Like owning a bar?” he asked, gesturing around them.

She laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t, actually. This just happens to be one of my go-to places to bring out-of-towners and colleagues who want to get tipsy on my dime. Lorenzo there has seen me drag a few of my friends outside with the help of a bouncer,” she said, grinning at the bartender.

 _“¿Los idiotas?”_ Frankie asked, nodding to the group in the back.

Nita smiled into her drink. “A few of them, yeah.” She took a sip and set the glass down, turning in her seat a bit to look at them. “I’ll probably be doing that again tonight.”

“Someone has to make sure everyone gets home alright,” he reasoned.

She nodded in agreement, focusing back on him. “It’s honest work.”

He almost wanted her to stop looking at him like that. So warm, so inviting. It didn’t feel like the sort of thing that should be happening to him, especially with how life had been treating him recently. He couldn’t believe that he was actually managing to hold a conversation either. He’d been communicating almost exclusively through grunts and monosyllabic words for the past few months.

But, sitting there with her eyes on him, it just made the words a little easier.

“So, what do you do, if you don’t own a bar?” he asked before taking a sip of his beer.

She shifted, eyes sliding to her friends in the back again. “I own a few clubs. One of them is local, that’s where all of them work. There are a few more spread out across the States. I also have a business with an old friend of mine in New York.”

He nodded, eyes dancing over her face as she spoke. “A pretty successful business woman, then?”

She smiled. “Something like that. Being your own boss has its pros and cons.” She lightly bumped his arm with the back of her hand. “What about you?”

It felt like his chest was going to burst with that small touch. It finally clicked that this woman was really, honest to God flirting with him, and he might’ve been losing his mind about it.

“I’m a pilot. Been working some odd jobs recently, though, waiting for my recertification to go through.” He tried not to wince as he thought about it. “Some old buddies of mine have an MMA gig that I help out with sometimes. Adds a little bit of excitement to my weeknights.”

“Sounds like it would,” she said, a hint of a laugh in her voice. “They have some amateur kickboxing tournaments at the gym my business partner’s husband works at. Always a fun time.” She swirled the straw in her drink absently. “Do you fly commercially?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. Mostly private stuff. Helicopter tours or cargo transport.” 

“Ah, a chopper guy,” she said, pressing her lips together to hide a grin as she nodded.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What? Do I seem like the kind of guy who wears a suit everyday?”

She bit the inside of her cheek lightly and ran a finger through the condensation on her glass. “You just seem like the kind of guy who’d look really good in one,” she said, tilting her head at him.

He blinked at her, mind going a little blank. He looked down, grinning like an idiot as he picked at the label on his beer. “I don’t— I don’t know about that.”

She waved a hand, her broad smile making his face hot. “Oh, you’d probably look great in all kinds of stuff. Gotta love a uniform.” She studied him as she lifted her drink. “You’d make a good cowboy, too.”

He let out a surprised laugh, a little louder than he’d meant to. “A cowboy?”

She sipped her drink, humming affirmatively, and gestured at his head as she narrowed her eyes. “I’m picturing the hat. It works for you.”

They just laughed for a moment, gazing at each other. At some point in the conversation, they’d both fully turned, each of them resting a single elbow on the bar as they faced one another.

Frankie sighed, lips still turned up in a smirk. “I’ll try to keep that in mind. In the meantime,” he grabbed his old ball cap off the bar and slipped it on, “I think I’ll stick with this.”

“That’s a good look, too,” she said, smiling softly with her chin in her palm.

“You think so?”

“It’s definitely working for me.”

He bit his lip. “Y’know, I feel like an ass, sitting here and getting compliments from a beautiful woman without coming up with a way to return them that won’t embarrass the shit out of me.”

She dropped the hand she’d been leaning on, letting the tips of her fingers brush where his elbow rested on the bar. “I think that one was pretty good.”

It took everything in him not to look down at her hand. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A hand appeared at her shoulder and they both turned to face the newcomer.

Tiff looked between them apologetically. “Sorry,” she said before directing a frown at Nita. “Matt’s had about six too many shots and he’s gonna break his neck trying to backflip off the stage.”

Nita gave a long-suffering sigh, pinching the space between her brows. “And that means that Ryan is two shots behind him and everyone needs to be taken home before more chaos starts.” She shook her head and set her glass back on the bar, gaze lingering on the clear condensation ring it had left on her jeans. “I’ll be back there in a second.”

Tiff scurried off and Nita met Frankie’s eyes again.

She offered a half-hearted shrug. _“Idiotas.”_

He chuckled softly, hoping that she couldn’t tell just how disappointed he was to see her go.

Her gaze shifted to something over his shoulder. _“¡Lorenzo! ¿Tienes un bolígrafo?”_ she called, making a writing gesture in the air.

Frankie could only watch as she thanked the bartender for the pen and pulled her wallet out of her back pocket.

“All I have are business cards,” she told him, biting her lip sheepishly. She slipped one out of her wallet and started writing across the back. Then, she was handing it to him. “This is my cell number. And I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He took the card in a daze. “It’s Frankie,” he said softly.

“Nita,” she said, gesturing to herself with one hand as she returned her wallet with the other. “Maybe we can do this again sometime, Frankie. _Sin los idiotas.”_

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

She offered him one last breathtaking smile. “Have a good night.”

“Night. And good luck with the carpool,” he said as she started walking away.

He heard her laugh.

He turned to face the bar again, a smile plastered across his face.

A few moments later, he saw some of her group walk out the door. A few stumbled. The woman who had brought an end to their conversation stopped to talk to the bartender before moving to hold the door open. Then, Nita was half-carrying, half-dragging a chattering man out of the bar, a bouncer following close behind.

Frankie chuckled to himself, shaking his head. It was probably time for him to head out, too. The beer in his hand was beyond lukewarm and it wasn’t going to help him feel any better than he already did.

He waved down the bartender as he reached for his own wallet, carefully tucking Nita’s business card away before thumbing through his cash.

 _“¿Cuánto cuesta?“_ he asked.

Lorenzo shook his head, holding up a hand. _“Nada. Estás cubierto.”_

His brow furrowed in confusion. _“¿Qué?”_

 _“La jefa se encargó de eso,”_ said the bartender, giving him a shrug.

“Oh.” Frankie let that process as he slowly put his wallet away. _“Gracias, señor.”_

He felt a little light-headed as he made his way out of the bar. So much had happened so quickly. He’d started the night determined to wallow in self pity, only to end it with a warm feeling in his chest and the promise of a date in the near future.


	2. Smooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie texts Nita, eager to set up a time and place for their first date. We get a glimpse at what Nita does when she has an “appointment.” They talk about Nita’s job(s) and their past struggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Aw, first date. They’re gonna talk about work and hobbies and send each other so many fucking heart eyes, you won’t believe. Frankie can get it up, but he can’t quite get it on. Sorry. I’m thinking of putting some serious angst in the next part. Like, serious angst. There has to be some drama before these two can get kinky with each other. I don’t make the rules.
> 
> Also, for context, they met on a Friday night and this part starts on Saturday afternoon and skips to Thursday for their date.

Frankie sat on his couch, studying the tiny piece of cardstock in his hand, wallet sitting open on his thigh.

He scratched his jaw absently, debating with himself about the phone number scribbled on the back. It wouldn’t hurt to go ahead and try to plan something, would it? He knew that there were “rules” for this kind of thing, but he didn’t have a clue what they were. 

He just wanted to talk to her again.

Before he could work up too much self-doubt, he entered her number into his contacts and opened a new text message. Then, he just stared at the empty message screen.

What was he supposed to say?

Drawing a blank, he flipped her business card, reading over the front of it.

_**Juanita Moreno, The Boss** _

_**Proprietor of Club Protocol Austin, Owner and CEO of Club Protocol** _

Underneath, there was what he assumed to be a professional phone number and business email.

He chewed his lip as he tapped a finger along the edge of the card before letting out a sigh. He slipped the card back into his wallet and tossed it onto the coffee table, focusing back on his phone.

Short and simple would work.

_F – Hey, it’s Frankie_

He sent it, immediately dropping his phone onto the couch next to him and covering his face with his hands as he slouched down.

Surely, he could make it through one text conversation without too much trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He was sweet, you know? A little awkward. It wasn’t a long talk, but I enjoyed it.”

Tiff glanced up from her tablet, smirking. “I would hope so. You covered the guy’s tab.”

Nita scoffed. “As if you monsters weren’t already costing me a small fortune with those tequila shots. What’s a few beers after a nice chat?”

“And your personal number?” she asked, a brow lifting.

Nita just shook her head, clearly exasperated. “I liked him! He was attractive and sweet. Fuck, I don’t need to defend myself to you. You’re my assistant. And I’m at least a decade older than you.”

Tiff shrugged, chuckling lightly. “I’ve just never seen you approach someone outside of a meet-up of other kinksters.”

“I get my dose of kink from work. I think I have room for a little vanilla in my dating life. Not that you have any say in what I do, _assistant._ ” She gave Tiff a pointed look.

Tiff just rolled her eyes as she went back to her tablet.

Nita’s phone buzzed on the table. She flipped it around to read the screen, and broke out into a wide grin.

“And now he’s texting me. I don’t want to hear any more judgement from you,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at Tiff.

Her assistant didn’t bother looking up. “Not a word.”

Nita huffed as she opened her texts and sent a quick reply.

_N – Hi! I was just talking about you_

She watched the little dots pop up and float for a moment before her phone buzzed again.

_F – Nothing bad, I hope_

_N – Of course not, just how nice it was talking to you_

_F – I had a great time talking to you too. You really improved my night_

She looked up from her phone, smiling softly as she tilted her head toward Tiff.

Her assistant looked up. “What?”

She held her phone close to her chest and gave an exaggerated pout. “He’s a sweetheart.”

Tiff sat back. “I would pay to see your regular clients’ reactions to this whole doe eyed look you’ve got going on.”

Nita gave a dreamy sigh as she flipped Tiff off across the table.

_N – I’m glad I could help ;)_

_F – I was hoping we could meet up sometime this week. Maybe grab dinner?_

“Jesus Christ!” Tiff startled when Nita smacked a palm on the table.

Nita waved a dismissive hand. “Sorry.”

_N – That would be great!_

_F – Would Thursday night work for you?_

“I’m free on Thursday nights, right?” asked Nita, looking up from her phone.

Tiff shrugged. “I think so. You should have a copy of your calendar in your phone.”

Nita squinted at her phone as she checked. When she found it, she just nodded. “Thank you, Tiff.”

_N – Thursday night is perfect :)_

She put her phone down, smiling wide. “I have a date,” she announced.

“Congratulations, Boss.” Tiff sighed as she shut down her tablet. “You also have an appointment in an hour.”

Nita stood up from the kitchen table, sliding a hand through her hair. “Alright. You need to go and I need to start getting ready. Don’t forget to order that new bench for room 4.”

Tiff gathered her things and pulled her purse onto her shoulder. “I’ve got it. Have fun.”

“Today, or on the date?” asked Nita.

Tiff pursed her lips. “Both, I guess. See you Monday,” she said, giving a small wave.

“See you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

The slap was immediate, stinging across her face. A hand gripped her jaw and suddenly all she could see was a pair of dark eyes.

“I didn’t say you could speak yet, did I?”

“N-No—”

The hand released her, another slap bursting across the opposite cheek. She shook as the hand returned, thumb and fingers digging into her face.

“You’re being a filthy little slut today, aren’t you? Won’t listen to a thing that Daddy says. I’d put a ball gag on you, but you’d like that too much, wouldn’t you? Mouth stretched open and unable to speak as you choke on your own spit.”

She let out a sob, squirming under that steely gaze.

“You can apologize when I give you permission to do so, understood?” The grip on her jaw tightened as her head was given a firm shake. “Nod for me. Let Daddy know that you understand.”

She nodded slowly once the hand released her again, letting her gaze slide to the floor. Fresh tears welled in her eyes.

“Good. Now, you’ve been a dirty whore, and dirty whores get choked.” A small gesture to the mat behind her.

She waddled awkwardly on her knees, turning around and nearly tipping face first onto the cushioned mat. A steadying hand on her shoulder kept her from losing her balance.

The worn leather cuffs securing her wrists behind her back were separated.

“On your back.”

She did as she was told, bringing her hands in front of her as she settled on the mat.

Leather clad thighs straddled her waist and her hands were raised above her head, the cuffs’ fasteners hooking into loops set in the floor at the corners of the mat.

Letting her head fall back, she savored the press of those thighs against her sides, lavishing in Daddy’s closeness.

A sharp pinch to her nipple made her cry out.

Fingers trailed smoothly down her ribs and those thighs squeezed her tight. “This isn’t for you, whore. This is for Daddy.”

Hands moved back up, skimming over her breasts, tracing the hollow of her throat, and settling around her neck.

A small, testing squeeze had her eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me, slut. You look at your Daddy when you’re being choked.”

She forced her eyes open, holding on those dark eyes as the grip on her throat tightened.

As the world started to go fuzzy, all she could focus on were the thighs straddling her and the warmth of the hands around her neck.

Her eyelids lowered.

The hands throttled her a bit. “Open.”

She tried. She wanted to open her eyes for Daddy, but it made the world spin too fast.

The grip loosened a fraction and her head buzzed. “Tap the mat twice if you’re ready to apologize. Three times if I need to keep my hands around this pretty neck.”

She blinked slowly and tapped her knuckles on the mat twice.

The pressure around her throat disappeared, making her blood rush in her ears as she gasped involuntarily.

Her wrists were freed from the cuffs before Daddy got up and stood over her, expression wholly neutral.

As she regained her bearings, she rose onto her knees and waited, chest still heaving slightly.

“You may speak now. You are going to apologize for being such a little slut.”

She bowed forward, palms flat on the floor. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry for being such a slut.”

“You’re a nasty whore. Daddy only likes good girls.”

Tears slipped down her face and her voice shook. “I’m s-sorry. I don’t want to be a n-nasty whore. I want to be a good girl for you, Daddy. I can be a good girl.”

“Sit up.”

She straightened back up, shivering as she caught that familiar stern look.

Daddy took a step closer and gently cupped her face. “Can you? Can you be a good girl for Daddy? I want you to promise me, baby.”

She nearly sobbed at the name. “I promise, Daddy. I swear I’ll be good. I’ll be such a good girl for you, Daddy, please.”

She trembled as a thumb brushed along her jaw thoughtfully. Arms crossed as dark eyes took in her ruined appearance.

There was a soft sigh before “I don’t believe you.”

A whimper broke out of her.

Deft fingers slid into her hair, curling into a fist right at the root and forcing her head back. She stared up with wide eyes.

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet. You’re going to bend over, hands on the floor, legs spread wide, and you’re going to beg Daddy to spank you until I decide that you’ve had enough.” The hand in her hair started pulling her up. “And you’re gonna stay right on this mat because dirty whores don’t get to use the spanking bench.”

Released with a slight shove, she quickly got into position on the mat, spreading her legs wide enough that she could brace herself.

“I don’t hear you,” said Daddy, voice low and smooth.

She could feel the flush spread over her face. “Spank me, Daddy.”

The pain was sharp, forcing the air from her lungs and leaving her left ass cheek tingly and hot. 

“You can do better than that.”

She watched the leather boots behind her tap silently. “Spank my ass, please, Daddy! I want to be a good girl for you. Teach me how, please!” She closed her eyes as soon as she saw how the weight shifted from one boot to the other.

Pain blossomed across her ass, three quick spanks landing on her right cheek, two more on the left.

“Harder, Daddy! Please, spank me harder. I want to learn!”

It started and didn’t stop, the pain jolting through her as steadily as Daddy’s pace.

She kept begging, even as she choked on her sobs, the flesh of her ass alight with searing pain.

At one point her knees buckled. The spanking paused only long enough for an arm to wrap around her waist and lower her to her elbows and knees.

She pressed her face to the mat as her begging turned into mindless gibberish, face almost as red as her ass and wet with tears.

The spanking stopped. “That’s enough.”

She turned her head enough to see Daddy walk to one of the cabinets before pulling out a hot towel and a large pump bottle. Setting the bottle on a nearby bench, Daddy sat down beside it, patting a thigh.

She rose up unsteadily, inner thighs embarrassingly slick, and crawled over, draping herself across the warm leather lap.

“That’s my good girl,” Daddy said softly, tilting her face up to clean it with the towel. “You did such a good job for me, baby.”

She nearly started weeping again at the praise. “Thank you, Daddy.”

The towel was brought down to gently clean her thighs, avoiding the sensitive flesh of her ass and her bare core. “You can finish cleaning up when I know you can stand up, alright, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

A hand smoothed over her hair. “Good girl.”

She sagged at the sound of the pump, eyes falling shut as soon as those warm hands started spreading the cooling gel across her tender ass.

“So pretty like this, babygirl.” The hands massaged lightly, kneading her oversensitive skin. “You made Daddy so proud today. You learned your lesson and showed Daddy just how good you are. You took everything so well, baby. Begged so nicely for me.”

She hummed softly.

Strong fingers moved over her skin carefully, pressing into her sore thighs and slowly working the joints at her knees and ankles, releasing the tense aches that had built up. Once her legs felt boneless, Daddy moved to her back, thumbs pressing down as they walked up her spine to her neck, rubbing the stress from her muscles. Her shoulders were gently rotated, hands and wrists massaged. Another dab of cooling gel was worked into each wrist were the cuffs had rubbed.

Her hair was brushed away from her neck, fingers lightly tracing along the side. “If there’s anything more than some very light bruises here, let me know and we’ll adjust things next time.”

“Okay.”

“Do you feel like you can stand?”

“Yeah, I just need a little help.”

She got her feet under her, a hand gripping her arm as she braced herself on a leather clad thigh. She was a little wobbly, but she could manage.

Another moment and Daddy stood up, pulling her hands to rest on sturdy shoulders, dark eyes facing her.

Daddy unfolded and refolded the warm towel, giving her a clean side. 

She took it, keeping one hand on Daddy’s shoulder, and finished cleaning between her legs before tossing the towel into a hamper against the wall.

“Do you need help getting dressed?”

She bit her lip as she glanced to the neatly folded pile in a cubby near the door. “Maybe just with the pants. I don’t think it’ll be nice dragging denim over my ass right now.”

A soft laugh. “I did tell you to start considering loose pajama pants after long sessions, Melanie.”

She gave a little pout. “But the little sting is so nice, Nita. Once they’re on, I’ll be fine, and it’ll have mellowed to a constant tingly ache by the time I get home and take them off. I just need you to hold the jeans away from my butt while I pull them up.”

Nita shook her head as she smiled, holding her hands up. “Alright. I’ll do my best.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They’d decided to go casual for the date, and it doesn’t get much more casual than barbecue. It helped that Austin was full of local barbecue joints.

They had also agreed to meet at the restaurant. Frankie figured it might’ve been polite to offer to pick her up, but he also thought it might seem presumptuous of him.

When he pulled into the parking lot on Thursday, he could see a few groups standing around outside, apparently waiting to be called in when a table opened. He spotted Nita as he was stepping out of his truck.

She sat along the row of benches that framed a large tree in front of the restaurant, surrounded by other groups waiting to go in. He watched her smile as she caught sight of him, patting the spot beside her.

“Hey,” he said, returning her smile.

She leaned a little closer to talk. “Hi. I got us a table.”

The dim lights at the bar hadn’t done her justice. Her dark eyes seemed to invite him to relax while giving a hint of mischief, the soft crinkles around them as she smiled putting everything at ease. Her hair fell just past her shoulders, such a dark brown that it looked black until the very ends showed its true color. Her lips were incredibly distracting, full and a shade away from red.

He had to glance down for a moment to refocus his thoughts. “Thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.”

Nita shook her head. “Neither have I. A friend recommended it. Said the brisket was amazing. And that the roasted corn makes up for the baked beans.”

“Sounds like an honest review,” he said, chuckling.

She grinned. “Oh, Jorge doesn’t hold back when it comes to barbecue. He takes it very seriously.”

“So, I should go to him for local recommendations, then, yeah?”

She laughed. “Oh, absolutely. He’ll talk your ear off though, so watch out.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t think my buddies really taste food when they eat it. Just inhale and wash it down with cheap beer,” he told her with a fond smile.

“That sounds about right. I’m assuming you all served together, huh?” she asked, raising a brow.

He gave her a look. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Well, I can’t say that you look like former military, because you don’t, really. I think it’s just a sixth sense thing.” She shrugged.

“Do you know a lot of service members?” he asked, leaning back on the bench.

She shook her head. “Not anymore. I’ve separated myself from a lot of that. It’s just me and my friend Sydney, now.”

He couldn’t do much to hide his surprise. “You served?”

Nita pressed her lips together, nodding. “Marines. Former Major Juanita Moreno.” She laughed bitterly. “Worst twelve years of my life.”

Frankie just frowned a little. “Can I ask why?”

She sat back, exhaling slowly. “I’ll admit, a lot of it is just retrospection. But there’s also the shit show of how and why I was discharged. The whole ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ thing was still in full effect. I was dating a woman at the time. It complicated an already awful situation that was going on.” She looked down. “I’m mostly just glad to be out of it.”

He studied her silently before carefully placing a hand on her knee. “I’m sorry all that happened.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile and she covered his hand with her own. “What about you?”

“Army. I was a pilot for the 160th.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Hmm. Spec ops.”

He raised a brow. “What?”

She shook her head, biting back a smile. “Nothing. Just...flying spooky helicopters that sound like they were named by a thirteen year old boy.”

“Ah,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Night Stalkers.” He leaned toward her and spoke quietly. “I had some SOs that had about as much common sense as thirteen year olds, so it’s not that surprising.”

She let out a laugh, smacking his arm lightly.

He grinned.

The buzzer in her lap started going off, so they both stood up to go inside.

Frankie was suddenly struck with the realization that Nita was about a head shorter than he was as she led him through the doors. He hadn’t noticed since he never stood up that night they met at the bar, and she’d already been sitting down when he got to the restaurant.

For some reason, he had felt like she was taller.

Despite the wait for a table, service was fast. Frankie ordered the recommended brisket while Nita got pulled pork, but they more-or-less ended up sharing the entrees. And they both got the roasted corn. All-in-all, it was as good as promised.

The sun was setting by the time they finished eating.

Franke rested his elbows on the table. “So, you mentioned that you own a few clubs. What does the work for that look like? I don’t really frequent night clubs. If they are night clubs. I don’t know what kinds of clubs there are, honestly.”

Nita pursed her lips as she tried to figure out how to respond. “They aren’t really night clubs. They’re a little more niche...and risqué.”

Frankie frowned. “Strip clubs?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head before motioning him closer.

He leaned toward her, a little apprehensive.

She cupped a hand around her mouth and whispered “Fetish clubs.”

His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up.

She had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

He scooted to the edge of his seat. “Does that mean that people have sex in the clubs?” he asked quietly, looking scandalized.

“Only the patrons. There are rooms where they can have sex if they want, but it’s more about access to equipment that’s expensive to buy for your house and being around other people who like the same stuff. There are professional Doms that work there and we offer paid sessions, but they don’t engage in anything sexual with patrons, just more general kink stuff.”

He stared at her, wide eyed and blank.

She smiled sheepishly. “It’s a lot to wrap your head around when you’re not familiar with a lot of it.”

He nodded slowly, gaze dropping down to the table.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out,” she said softly.

He straightened up, looking at her again. “Hey. No, I’m not freaking out, or anything. It’s just...a lot to wrap my head around.”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding slightly.

Frankie looked her over, brow furrowed in concern. He had been the one to ask about it. She’d just tried to explain it.

He swallowed hard before clearing his throat and leaning closer to her. “Nita,” he said gently.

She met his eyes, trying for a small smile.

He glanced around them and made a small gesture, asking her to lean closer.

She scooted her chair over, a wrinkle appearing between her brows.

He tried to look a little reassuring. “I’d be happy to hear more about it so I could maybe understand it a little better. I don’t want you to think I’ve been scared off because you like your job and wanted to answer my question honestly. I won’t pretend that I know everything there is to know, and I’m in no place to spew some ‘holier than thou’ bullshit. I just got caught off guard a little.”

When she looked at him, there was a little humor back in her eyes and she offered a small smirk. “Careful, there. Jorge can talk all about barbecue, and I could go on and on about my job.”

He grinned at her. “As long as I can use Google, I’ll try my best to keep up.”

That earned him a smile and he could feel that warmth in his chest.

When their waiter dropped off the check, Frankie insisted on paying, saying that she had paid for his drinks when they met, and he could pay for her dinner.

As they walked back out into the parking lot, Frankie chewed his lip.

“Do you think—Would you maybe be up for a nightcap?” he asked. “At my place?”

She looked a little surprised but her grin made him flush. “Sure. Should I follow you there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that works.”

“Okay,” she said, walking backwards a few steps to hold his gaze before turning to find her car.

Frankie got into his truck, leaning his head back as he exhaled slowly. He took his hat off to run a hand through his hair before replacing it.

He started the truck, put it in reverse, and placed both hands on the wheel.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself as a smile spread across his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was only about a twenty minute drive to his apartment complex. He was hyperaware of the headlights in his mirror the whole time.

They pulled into the lot outside his building, parking side by side.

He unlocked the entrance door for them both to slip inside and climb up the stairs. He did not almost trip over his feet when she tucked herself into his side as they walked down the hall to his door.

When they got into his apartment, he went straight to the kitchen. “What do you like? I’ll admit, I don’t have much of a selection.”

“Any rum?” she asked, following him and leaning a hip against the counter.

He pulled down a small bottle of Captain Morgan. “It’s not fancy, but I’ve only used it for tiki drinks, so there hasn’t been much of a reason to splurge.”

“It’ll work.”

He brought down a bottle of Buffalo Trace for himself, along with two glasses.

“Do you want any ice? A mixer?” he asked.

Nita shrugged. “Just Coke, if you have it.”

He nodded, adding ice to both glasses and pulling a can of Coke from the fridge.

He poured the bourbon in one glass and mixed her drink in the other before handing it over.

“Thank you,” she said. After a tentative sip, she hummed approvingly and set it beside her on the counter.

He looked at her as he took a sip, only to find her watching him.

“What?”

She said nothing, just picked her drink back up and took another sip, eyes never leaving his.

He swallowed hard, knowing that she could probably see him flush.

When she set her drink down again, she slid it back and off to the side. Then she lifted herself up onto the counter. “Come here,” she said softly.

He was moving before he even really thought about it, placing his drink next to hers as he stopped in front of her.

Slowly, like she was worried about frightening him, she placed her hands on his chest.

He wasn’t entirely sure that he was still breathing.

She ran her hands over his chest and up his shoulders. _“Eres...muy hermoso.”_

His face went very hot at the compliment, a shudder running through him.

Her hands trailed up his neck and slid into his hair, his hat toppling onto the floor.

He didn’t even notice.

She pulled him forward and caught his mouth with hers.

His hands brushed over her thighs and slid around her waist, pulling her closer as she ran her tongue over his lower lip.

He opened for her, groaning softly against her mouth.

Nita wrapped her legs arounds his waist, melting against him as his arms circled her fully, one hand splayed along her back, one gripping under her thigh.

She relished the softness of his hair, tugging it lightly as she pressed closer, her chest flush with his.

She could taste the bourbon on his tongue, mixing with the carbonated sting of her own rum and Coke. She gave a low moan as the hand on her thigh squeezed and she was rewarded with a small buck of his hips.

“Take me to bed, Frankie,” she said softly.

_“Fuck,”_ he groaned, squeezing her again as he brought her off the counter, still tangled up with him as he carried her out of the kitchen and into his bedroom.

He set her down on the bed and crawled over her, wanting to stay close as he caught her mouth again.

Her hands trailed all the way down his abdomen before sliding up under his shirt. Her hands on his bare skin burned.

An unpleasant iciness slid down his spine. He ignored it, letting his hands wander up her sides.

His cock was almost painfully restrained by his jeans as he ground himself against her, one of his hands cupping her breast as the other ran through her hair.

He dragged his lips along her jaw, slowly kissing down her neck.

It felt like there was a weight inside of him, that iciness returning.

He wanted it to stop, wanted to enjoy the taste of her skin and the feeling of her hands on him.

He rested his forehead on her shoulder, panting as he looked down between them and worked on unbuttoning her jeans.

Her fingers danced along his back and she lifted her hips a bit, ready for him to slide her pants off.

As soon as he unzipped her jeans and saw the waistband of her underwear, he froze, the icy weight crashing into him. He placed his hands flat on the bed on either side of her waist, breathing heavily, unfounded guilt pulling at him.

Her hands paused and she turned her face, his hair brushing against her nose. “You okay?” she asked carefully.

He buried his face in her neck. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” she said, voice low and gentle. She slid her hands out of his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, a miserable note coming through.

“You don’t need to apologize.” She ran a calming hand down his back.

After a moment, he straightened back up and ran a hand down his face in frustration. “I want to. Why am I—?” He sighed heavily.

She zipped and buttoned her jeans back up before standing with him. “It’s okay. Sometimes a weird feeling hits and it kills the mood. I promise, honey, it’s alright.”

He slid a hand along the back of his neck as he looked at her. Her lips were even redder from kissing, hair messy where he’d run his fingers through it.

Nita tilted her head at him, expression open. “Do you want me to go home?” she asked, no resentment in her voice.

Frankie reached for her, a slight panic crossing his features. “No. This is just—” He gestured weakly. “I don’t know. I want to spend time with you. You’re gorgeous and funny and you still have so much shit to explain to me about your job,” he said, eyes widening playfully.

She laughed. “Alright, alright. We do still have those drinks to finish.” She took a step closer and smoothed her hands up his chest, biting her lip. “You’ve got Netflix, right? Movie?”

He grinned softly, bringing a hand up to cup her face. “Sounds perfect.”


	3. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go on a few more dates and its a Montage. Frankie has a bad time in his apartment. Overdose and ER visit. Nita gives Frankie a stern talking-to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the angst. Also for the info-dump of a dating montage. I gotta establish things. They fuck in the next part. Like, a lot.

Frankie woke up in his room, looking around blearily. He squinted, turning to look at the other side of the bed, only to find it empty.

Huffing out a sigh, he buried his face in his pillow.

She might’ve had work. Or had things to take care of at her place. 

Or she just wanted to leave after he fell asleep because it was clear that nothing was going to happen, even if he had been awake.

It wasn’t fair to think like that. He knew that. It was a reflection of how he was getting into his own head far more than it was a reflection of anything she’d done.

Nita had sprawled out on the couch, leaning into him, head on his chest as they scrolled through movies and shows. She’d done her best to explain some parts of her job or the whole community behind it when they couldn’t find anything else to watch.

They’d spent a long time curled up on the couch and talking about whatever came to mind.

When he had asked her to stay, he hadn’t really been expecting much. After all, even with how much he wanted her, that odd guilt had stayed in the back of his mind.

He could still picture her tired smile as she said, “As long as we can move back to the bed. I don’t think I’ll survive sleeping on a couch for the night.”

She had quickly exchanged her jeans for an old pair of sweatpants he had, which were way too long on her, before slipping under the covers with him.

And now she was gone.

He reached for the phone on his nightstand, lifting it up and squinting. No notifications.

He sank into numbness as he got up, rubbing a hand down his face and shuffling to the bathroom to take a piss.

When he came back out, he headed to the kitchen, walking right past an old set of sneakers with a folded pair of jeans and a bra sitting on top of them.

He was in the middle of a yawn when he stepped into the kitchen and was confronted with the sight of Nita kneeling on top of the counter, a cabinet open next to her as she read the label on a bag of ground coffee.

She looked up when he stopped, giving him a warm smile.

The morning was already far better than he’d been preparing himself for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And this was right after she was born?” Nita asked.

Frankie smiled. “Yeah, right when they brought her back from being weighed and everything. She was so tiny.”

She looked up from the photo on his phone, placing a hand on his arm. “She’s so beautiful.”

Nita was sitting with her legs thrown across his lap, curled up against the arm of the couch in his living room. One of his hands rested just above her ankle, the other splayed over her thigh.

“She is,” he agreed. “Lana almost had to knock me out to get me to hand her over. As soon as Izzy was in my arms, I never wanted to give her up for anything.” His expression was so soft, bursting with adoration.

Nita chuckled. “Doesn’t surprise me, you big softie,” she said, brushing her knuckles along his jaw.

He rolled his eyes, waving her hand away. “Yeah, yeah.” He pointed to the phone in her hands. “If you scroll further down, there should be some more recent pictures. Stuff from her birthday.”

Nita leaned her head against the back of the couch as she looked through the pictures, a small smile on her face that grew whenever she came across a photo of a little girl with cake icing all over her face. “I think it’s safe to say you have the most adorable daughter in the world. At least, in my opinion,” she said, patting his chest and handing him his phone.

He nodded, grinning over at her as he took it. “Oh, I’d have to agree. No contest.” He squeezed her thigh affectionately.

They’d been dating for about a month. It was good. _So good._

Over that month, he’d told her a little bit about the fuckup of a job that went down in South America the year before, and how it had cost them an old friend. How he blamed himself for the crash that made the whole thing go downhill. How he and his buddies had been trying to stay in touch a little more after that, even with how much civilian life kept them apart.

She’d told him about her friend and business partner, Sydney, as well as his husband, Ethan. How they, and the people she worked with, were her family. How her parents had kicked her out and cut her off when she came out after high school and that she had joined the Marines to help pay for college without them. How she hadn’t spoken to them since then. Nothing, in 25 years.

He didn’t think he would have made it as far as he had if he hadn’t had his parents to back him up. He had to give her credit for finding a whole new family and making a life doing what she enjoyed and cared about.

Frankie could feel himself open up to her whenever they went out together or when she came over and they just talked for hours about everything and nothing.

He eventually managed to bring up his struggles with cocaine, terrified of her reaction but more so terrified of the possibility of her finding out some other way.

She’d looked taken aback when he told her. He was ready for her to tell him that she couldn’t be around that, that he had to fix it before he considered dating. It had played a big part in ending his marriage, after all.

She had just looked at him for a few moments. “My assistant, Tiff, takes the key to my home liquor cabinet home with her whenever I start to get too stressed.” Her gaze slid down. “I started giving it to her once we’d gotten a little closer, and I’d told her about how I’d been well on my way to alcoholism before I was even old enough to drink. Joining the military made it worse. It peaked right after I got discharged. That whole clusterfuck tipped me over the edge and I ended up in the ER getting my stomach pumped after a particularly rough night of binge drinking.” She’d shrugged, offering a sad smile. “Started going to therapy after that. It helps. Having friends, too. I won’t pretend to know what it’s like for something like coke, but I imagine there’s some crossover in the reasoning behind it. I wanted to shut things out. The shit with my family. All the stuff while I was serving. Almost losing Syd.”

She had let out a sigh, holding one of his hands between hers. “Stopping it has taken more discipline than I ever thought I had. And I haven’t even gone full sober, but I have strict rules for myself. It starts to get easier though, when you find other, better habits to take its place.”

Frankie had run a hand through his hair. “How do you do that?”

A wrinkle appeared between her brows. “Do what?”

“Make me have some hope for myself that doesn’t feel like complete bullshit.”

She had brought his hand up and kissed his knuckles. “I’m just telling you the stuff that I’ve gone through and what I’ve learned in the years since then. We’ve all had our struggles. A little empathy only makes sense.”

He had pulled her up into his lap after that, sliding his arms around her and just holding her there for a long time.

He also occasionally worked up the courage to ask her specific questions about her job at the club. He’d made some effort to look things up online, but usually ended up feeling like everything went over his head.

“So, people call you Boss when you’re there?” he asked one night when they’d had pizza delivered to his apartment for a night in.

She nodded, sliding a slice of ham and pineapple onto her plate. “Yep. And outside of work, too, since it kinda becomes a habit, but that’s mostly the other staff. The Boss is kinda like a role I play while I’m there in general, and with a few of my regular clients that like that for private play. The suits are really nice,” she said, smiling.

“When you say regular clients, is that just people who stop by a lot?”

“It’s a repeat business. We have our regulars just like anywhere else, people that get what they’re looking for with a particular Dom on staff, or the people who pay for the membership so they can use the equipment in the open dungeons,” she said, shrugging as she took a bite of pizza.

Frankie set his beer on the coffee table and raised an eyebrow. “What kinds of stuff do your clients ask you to do for them?” The tips of his ears went a little warm when he realized what he might be asking about. “If you can even say. I guess most people wouldn’t want their... interests to be talked about with random people.”

She grinned. “You can say kinks. It’s not a bad word. And I’m happy to discuss clients in a very general way. I just don’t want to out anyone specific for what they like.”

He sat back into the couch. “So, what is the general stuff?”

“Well,” she began, “I’ve dealt with Daddy and Mommy kinks, a lot of bondage, nonsexual overstimulation, sensory deprivation, impact play, breath play. Degradation is a big one, as is praise. Sometimes, there’s a specific scenario that the client wants to explore, so that usually has some more involved roleplaying.”

He nodded along, eyes going a bit wide. “I know what some of those words mean,” he told her. “And you’re the one in charge every time? Like, you’re the one doing stuff, the tying up and name-calling and everything?”

“I _am_ the Boss. So, yes.” She drew her legs up and tucked them under her. “But, despite the power play going on in a scene, the submissive always has a level of control over the situation because they can end it immediately and at any point. That’s what safewords are for, or alternatives when a sub can’t speak.”

“Right,” he said slowly. “And the club has its own safeword?”

She nodded through another bite.

He looked down at his own plate. “And you’re really into all of that?”

“Yeah. It’s why I made it my job. I mean, I’m not really into being called Mommy or Daddy myself, but I don’t mind it if it’s what the client wants. Kind of a loose roleplay.”

“So, you—” He had to clear his throat, glancing over at her. “You want to do that kind of stuff...to me?”

Nita looked over at him, studying his face before setting her plate on the table with a sigh. She scooted closer to him on the couch and set a hand on his knee. “I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want me to. We don’t have to do any of this and I’m certainly not going to force it on you. If you find yourself interested, we can try some things, but I’m not expecting you to get on board just because I am.” She leaned against him, taking his hand. “And considering the fact that we’ve only really made out at this point, I have no plans to start breaking out any crazy shit.”

Embarrassment burned in his chest. “Yeah, I’m—I’m sorry about that whole thing,” he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

She sat up a little higher to look at him, still partially leaning into his side. “Stop it. That isn’t something you ever need to apologize for. I am fully capable of enjoying time with you that doesn’t involve sex, Frankie.” She slid her arms around his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. “And I get to cuddle up with you regardless, so I’m only winning.”

He offered a half-hearted hum, but wrapped an arm around her to keep her tucked against him.

She squinted up at his profile. “Don’t make me start,” she warned.

“Start what?”

“You know what.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“I’m gonna start, Frankie,” she said, pursing her lips at him.

“I don’t know what that means,” he insisted, holding his hands up, brows lifting in exasperation.

Nita brought a hand up to cup the side of his face. “So pretty.”

He frowned in confusion. “What?”

She leaned up and buried her face in his neck. “The most handsome,” she said.

“What’re you—”

“Very cozy. The sweetest ever. A ‘read me the whole phone book’ kind of voice.” She was smiling against his neck.

“Nita—”

She pulled herself up onto his lap, ignoring him. “Really soft hair. Nice laugh. Gorgeous eyes. A big-hearted goofball. The best smile. A goddamn adorable blush. Hands made to be held. Excellent kisser. Fellow bad movie lover. Super smart. Great at—”

“Okay!” he exclaimed, putting a hand over her mouth to make her stop, his face burning. “I get it! You don’t have to attack me with compliments.”

She beamed at him and pulled his hand away, poking his cheek. “See? A goddamn adorable blush.”

“Stop,” he groaned, leaning forward to hide his face in her hair while she laughed.

It seemed too soon to say anything, but he could feel it filling his chest whenever she was around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite everything that had improved in the last month, he would still end up tormenting himself in the off times.

One morning, he woke up before sunrise. His apartment was dark and empty.

_He should’ve pushed to leave more money behind before they ever took off._

Frankie ground the heels of his palms into his eyes as he sat up.

_He should’ve found a better exit route._

Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, he stood up slowly, putting a hand on the nightstand for support.

_He should’ve found a different place to land._

He shuffled into his bathroom and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face before he looked at himself in the mirror.

_He’d shot first._

There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked pale. The lines in his face stood out, making him seem grim. Guilty.

_He’d been willing to kill kids. Fucking **kids**._

It was his fault. He couldn’t stop drawing everything back to the mistakes he’d made, the risks he’d taken while they were there. They’d lost the money because of him. They’d crashed because of him. Tom was dead because of him.

_He’d still be at home, watching his daughter grow up, if he hadn’t agreed to go in the first place._

He turned the faucet off and walked out of the bathroom, going straight for the dresser. Opening up the top drawer, he slid his hand to the back and grabbed the big Ziploc bag hidden under some old socks. He brought the whole thing with him as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

He popped open the bottle and headed into the living room, tossing the bag on the coffee table and sinking down onto the couch.

The little packets of white powder stared up at him as he sipped his beer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nita parked outside of Frankie’s building. She got out of the car, clipping her keyring to a belt loop, and grabbed her wallet and phone from the cup holder.

She jogged up to the main entrance, catching the door before it closed behind the person who walked in ahead of her.

They were going to try a new breakfast place downtown. They had agreed it would be easier to just meet up at his place and take one car from there, since it had become the norm for Nita to stay over until she had to get ready for work anyway.

When she reached the elevator, she hit the call button and sent Frankie a quick _‘on my way up’_ text.

She looked up as the door opened with a ding and stepped inside, glancing down at her phone in anticipation of a short acknowledging response from him. She kept checking while she got off on his floor and up until she was in front of his door.

Shaking her head with a small smile, she knocked on the door. He had a habit of leaving his phone on the charger in his bedroom until the last minute.

She looked down the hallway as she waited for him to open the door. She waited and waited and waited.

There didn’t seem to be any movement on the other side.

She knocked harder, leaning toward the door with a frown. The TV was playing faintly from inside, but she couldn’t hear him moving around or talking. Nothing.

Looking down at her phone, she called him and brought it up to her ear.

She could hear it ringing from inside his apartment. It rang until his voicemail picked up.

Worry set in. He wouldn’t still be in the shower if they were supposed to meet up. His apartment wasn’t huge, he’d be able to hear her knocking or his phone ringing. He’d have told her if something came up, and he wouldn’t have left without his phone. Hell, his truck was still parked in the lot.

She tried knocking again.

When she still didn’t get a reply, she started shifting into panic mode. Awful scenarios played over in her mind.

Is this how Syd felt when he couldn’t get in touch with her?

That thought triggered a whole other scenario to play out. The night she had to be rushed to the hospital for alcohol poisoning.

And Frankie had told her about his issues with cocaine.

“No, no, no,” she whispered, twisting helplessly at the doorknob, “please, don’t be that.”

She was sprinting back down the hallway before she even realized what she was going to do. Her panicked footsteps echoed through the stairwell as she went back to the ground floor and burst out into the lobby.

She got to the front desk, gripping the edge of the counter as she looked at the clerk.

“I need a key for 306,” she told him, breathless.

He didn’t look up from his computer. “Do you have proof of residence?”

“I don’t live here. It’s my boyfriend’s apartment. Please, it’s urgent.”

He sighed, turning to her with a bored look. “I can’t give out keys without proof of residence or consent from a resident.”

She shook her head, panic giving way to her temper. “You don’t understand, this is an em—”

“I _cannot_ give out keys without _proof of residence_ or _consent from a resident._ ”

Furious, she pulled a business card out of her wallet and threw it at the man. _“Fucking bill me, then,”_ she snarled.

She was already back at the door for the stairway before he could shout an angry “Hey!”

Even taking the steps two at a time, it felt like forever before she reached the third floor. She ran down the hallway, pulse pounding in her ears as she returned to his door. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself quickly before slamming a foot into the door, right next to the knob.

She heard it crack a little, but it held, vibrating on its hinges with the force.

Kicking again, the cracking was louder and there was a dent where her foot hit.

A third kick made the doorframe splinter inward and she was able to shoulder the door open the rest of the way.

She saw him immediately. 

He was laying limp on the living room floor, a trail of foam at the corner of his mouth. Three beer bottles sat on the coffee table, one laying on its side. She didn’t miss the shakily prepared lines of cocaine right next to the bottles, or that the amount of open packets scattered across the table meant that they were far from the first.

She ran over to him and crouched at his side, fingers seeking out the pulse at his neck.

It was fast, too fast, but that was better than nothing.

Pulling her phone out, she called for an ambulance immediately, trying to keep the shaking out of her voice as she answered their non-stop questions.

She stayed on the phone with the dispatcher until the paramedics were walking through the splintered doorway. How she must’ve looked then, petting his hair gently with trembling hands.

The questions started all over again as she went with them out to the ambulance. There was so much that she couldn’t answer and she just kept apologizing for that, even though they’d only known each other for little more than a month

She climbed in with them, wide eyed as they started placing stickers and wires all over him before sticking an IV in his arm.

They were throwing jargon back and forth between the questions that they asked her.

She felt like she was in a daze, listening to the rapid beeps of the machine monitoring his vitals, trying to pick through her memory for any traces of his medical history that might’ve come up in conversation.

Then, a dull, steady tone filled the space.

The world went white as the paramedic beside her got to his feet and started doing chest compressions.

She knew that they were all talking to one another, and maybe to her, but all she heard was that single long tone. Numbness crawled through her veins and she just stared at Frankie’s face. There wasn’t anything she could do in that situation and the helplessness was tearing her apart.

Her body jolted along with the momentum of the speeding ambulance, her elbow slamming into the wall hard enough to bruise at one point, but the only pain she felt was her chest constricting and the blurry sting behind her eyes.

Everything became too loud when the beeping resumed. The sudden ability to breathe again made her dizzy and she could feel tears falling down her face.

The paramedics waited a moment, scanning the monitor to ensure that things were returning to some semblance of normal, before the one beside her sat back down.

He gently nudged her arm and she realized that she was shaking. “Hey. We’ve got him,” he said softly.

She just nodded silently, not trusting her voice to work with the lump in her throat.

From that point on, she watched the monitor displaying his vitals, willing it all to stay steady throughout the rest of the drive.

When they got to the hospital, she wasn’t allowed to follow them back to his room. She wasn’t family.

Instead, a nurse led her out to the waiting room, where she sat stiffly in one of the cushioned chairs, not really sure what she was meant to be waiting for, nor how long that wait would be.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, staring blankly at the empty chair across from her, before a woman came through the main entrance.

Nita didn’t really notice her until she hurried up to the nurses’ station and said “I got a call about a patient. Francisco Morales?”

Nita looked up, finding a woman she’d seen a few glimpses of in older photos of Izzy that Frankie had shown her on his phone. Lana. She must’ve still been listed as his emergency contact.

She got up out of her chair as the nurse behind the desk took Lana’s ID and started typing away. As she got closer, she felt more uncertain as to what she would even say.

Lana was about average height, which meant she was taller than Nita, and seemed to be a few years younger, maybe mid to late thirties. She was pretty, a warm complexion and dark hair that was pulled away from her face in a low ponytail. She glanced up when Nita stopped a few feet away.

“Hi,” Nita said, giving a small, polite smile. “You’re Lana, right?” She caught the look of slight confusion as Lana studied her face, clearly trying to place it. “We’ve never met. I’m Nita, I came here with Frankie.”

Realization spread over her features and she held out a hand, which Nita shook. “I didn’t know he was seeing someone.”

Nita shrugged, a part of her hoping she didn’t look as wrecked as she still felt. “It’s only been a little over a month, so I’m not surprised.”

Lana’s eyes widened. “A month? And you’re already having to come to the hospital?” She leaned closer, voice lowering. “Tell me it wasn’t the coke. They just told me to come in, they didn’t tell me what was wrong. Did he overdose?”

She pressed her lips tight, head filling with that long, dull tone as she gave a small nod. “I found him. We were supposed to meet up before grabbing breakfast.”

“I’m sorry,” Lana said sincerely. Then, she frowned slightly. “What are you doing out here? Are they not allowing visitors?”

Nita shook her head. “Family only.” She gestured vaguely to Lana. “Or emergency contacts.”

“Ms. Torres,” said the nurse, holding out Lana’s ID. “Someone will be by in a minute to bring you back.”

Lana took the card, still frowning as she looked at Nita, before she turned to the nurse. “Can I bring her back with me?”

Nita’s eyes widen a bit in surprise, gaze shifting between Lana and the nurse.

The nurse looked to Nita. “Do you have an ID with you?”

She was quick to slip her license out of her wallet and hand it over, nodding her thanks to Lana who just gave a small smile.

A nurse appeared from the set of automatic doors next to the desk as Nita was being handed her license back.

“You’re here for Mr. Morales?” he asked.

Both women nodded and he gestured for them to follow.

Nita tensed as soon as they left the waiting room, skin crawling as they made their way down the featureless hall. It was always the smell that bothered her first, followed by the lighting and the hallways that felt awkwardly wide but also cramped. She’d never even been to this hospital, but the bland walls were full of bad memories.

“He’ll be asleep when you go in, and probably won’t wake up for a few hours while he detoxes,” the nurse was explaining. “We did have him awake a little while ago to check for any other possible issues, like a concussion since he was found on the ground. Nothing turned up, so that’s a good sign. It’s just down to having him rest and letting everything work it’s way out of his system. The plan right now is to keep him overnight, with the possibility of holding him another day for observation.” They stopped at a door and the nurse carefully pushed it open, letting Nita and Lana step through first. “If you need anything, you can go to the nurses’ station that’s a little further down this hall.” He then gestured back the direction they’d just come from. “We passed some vending machines on the way here. I know it’s almost lunch time, so if you want to get some snacks, those are an option. There’s also the cafeteria, but you might need to ask someone to show you the way if you want to get there.”

They each nodded along with his words, thanking him before he slipped back out of the room. They were left to take in the sight of Frankie in the hospital bed as the room settled into silence.

He was pale, a thin sheen of sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead and neck. His eyes seemed sunken, like this was the only sleep he’d gotten in a long time. The wide neck of the hospital gown was crooked and left his collarbones exposed, skin still gleaming with sweat. There were a few machines surrounding him, all just there to monitor his heart rate, oxygen levels, or blood pressure. He was still hooked up to an IV, the bag hanging on a stand nestled amongst the machines.

Nita was hit with a wave of nausea but she gritted her teeth, determined to fight it. He would be alright. There was no reason for her to start sliding back into panic. 

Her throat tightened with the threat of tears anyway.

Lana walked over to one of the chairs in the room and sat down heavily, sighing as she ran her hands down her face. She looked to where Nita was still frozen in place. “Come sit. I don’t think there’ll be much for us to do until he wakes up,” she said gently, leaning back.

“Yeah,” she rasped, taking him in for a moment longer before tearing her gaze away and moving to join Lana.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His chest _hurt._ It felt like someone had knocked a baseball right into the center of it. Or maybe just hit him directly with a hard swing of the bat.

And the low beeping was making the pounding in his head even worse.

He heard people speaking, too low to make out, and something about their voices was...off.

Everything was too bright when he tried to open his eyes. It was like a light was shining right into his face. He forced his eyes to stay open, squinting against the light in the room and up at the TV playing on the wall across from him.

The voices.

He slowly registered that he was in a hospital room as he looked around. Something was wrong. He’d fucked something up. Done too much. His whole body felt like shit.

His gaze eventually landed on the figure sitting in a chair off to the side.

She was facing the TV, a bag of pretzels in her hand, not yet noticing that he was awake.

Confusion took hold of him. “Lana?”

She met his gaze with a start. “Hey,” she said, flustered. “You’re up.”

He shook his head. “What’re you—? But Izzy—?”

“Izzy is with my mom. The hospital called me down here,” she told him with a sigh. “You need to get your records updated, Frankie.”

He felt himself sink down into the bed. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t—” He swallowed hard, throat dry. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Lana stood up and folded her arms as she made her way over to the side of the bed. “I know you didn’t. I think the fact that you had plans this morning kinda saved you, actually.”

“Plans?” he asked with a slight frown. 

And then there was the dread as he remembered.

“It’s Tuesday,” he said softly. “I was supposed to have breakfast with Nita.”

Lana nodded, looking down at her shoes. “She’s the one that found you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands. “God fucking damn it.” He shut his eyes and let his hands fall back down. “I woke up so early, I didn’t even think about the day.”

“She’s been on edge the whole time I’ve been here, Frankie.” She looked up at him and her eyes were so full of emotion that it almost made him wince. “Don’t put her through this, alright? I know that you know it’s not fair. To anyone.”

He stared down at the end of the bed. “I know. I’m trying, but I just...” he trailed off with a sigh. “I’m trying.”

“Yeah,” she said, voice low and a bit strained as she let her gaze drop.

“And Nita’s here?” He tried to shift a little, sit up straighter, but pain twisted all along his rib cage and he was forced to slump back. Prepared to try again, he took a deep breath, only to discover that that alone reignited the pain. Teeth gritted, he focused on keeping his breathing even without over-expanding his lungs.

“She is. She went to grab a drink from the vending machine.”

He nodded slightly, a hand hovering over where the ache was worst. “Did something happen while I was out?” he ground out. “When I move, it’s like I’m getting kicked in the chest.”

Lana frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know. They said you were alright, aside from having to detox. You could call in a nurse,” she suggested.

They both turned to look when the door opened.

Nita slipped into the room, eyes widening as she saw Frankie. “Hi. How do you feel?” she asked, quickly moving to his side, a hand gently taking hold of his free one.

“Like shit,” he said, offering a dry grin. “Headache isn’t fun. And my chest is killing me, for some reason.”

Something in her expression shifted, the little smile that had been forming wavered. “They didn’t say your ribs were broken, but they’re probably pretty bruised.”

“Did I hit something? Or run into something?” 

She shook her head and squeezed his hand, eyes too bright. “No. They, uh...They had to do chest compressions on the ride here.” He could see her jaw working as she shifted her weight. “You flatlined.”

He stared at her blankly, not sure he even wanted to fully process what she’d said.

“What?” Lana exclaimed.

Nita cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I would’ve said something earlier, but I couldn’t really think about it without—” She rocked back on her heels and pulled her hand away from him. “Hospitals bring back—” she started again before her jaw clenched. “I’m gonna go sit down.”

They watched her shuffle around the bed and slump down heavily into one of the chairs, hands covering her face. She was silent for a few moments before she looked back up at them.

“I haven’t been able to get the sound out of my head since I heard it, and hospitals bring back some very bad memories, so I’ve just been trying to avoid focusing on the details or thinking about anything that will make me nauseous.” She said it all very quickly, like she was trying to get it out before she could register her own words. “So, your ribs are probably bruised.”

Frankie looked up at the ceiling and almost wished that he was enough of a believer to pray, but he couldn’t get his thoughts organized enough to even try.

Lana slowly made her way over to the chairs and sat down next to Nita.

Things were pretty quiet after that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hospital released him two days later, taking that second day for observation to monitor the effects of the detox and the severity of his bruised ribs.

Nita was there from the very beginning of visiting hours each day, staying until the nurses had to practically force her to leave.

Lana left when visitation ended the day he was brought in so that she could pick Izzy up. She came back for an hour or two the next morning to check in, and a final time when they were letting him go.

Once Lana left and his papers were signed, he was wheeled out through the front doors and to the entrance of the parking garage by a nurse before getting up and walking the rest of the way to Nita’s car.

The drive to his apartment was overwhelmingly calm and it made him feel like everything inside him was utter chaos by comparison.

Upon making it to his building, the man at the front desk stopped them as soon as they walked in. 

“You Morales? 306?” he asked Frankie.

His brow furrowed. “Yeah.”

The man held out a hand. “ID.”

Frankie just looked more confused as he pulled out his wallet and handed his license over.

The clerk leaned over his computer and checked the license against some information he pulled up on the monitor. Then, he straightened back up and returned the ID before handing Frankie a key. “For your new door,” he said, shooting a glare at Nita.

Frankie stared down at the key as they walked to the elevator. “New door? I didn’t know they were getting new doors.”

Nita pushed the call button and looked up at him. “They aren’t. I just kicked in your old one.”

His brows shot up and he nearly dropped the key. “You what?”

“They wouldn’t give me a key, so I had to kick my way in.”

He stared at her blankly for a few seconds. “I’m sorry you had to do that,” he said lowly.

She shrugged. “I just had to get to you. I was worried.”

He gazed down at her as they walked onto the elevator, eyes sweeping over her face. She looked tired. And it was his fault.

He was a little startled when he felt her fingers intertwine with his.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, voice quiet, “we’re focusing on making you feel better.”

Her thumb brushed the back of his hand.

He couldn’t help wondering if she knew just how much he didn’t deserve it, that little comforting gesture. Surely, there was enough evidence showing that she shouldn’t even bother with him. It had to be clear by that point that he was just in a permanent state of fucked up mess.

Neither of them said anything when they reached the third floor and walked down the hall.

He took note of the fresh coat of paint on the new doorframe and the knob that shone bright from lack of use.

When he walked inside, he felt a heaviness clinging to him, weighing his shoulders down. He hated how his first concern was the mess he’d left on the coffee table, and the confusion when he saw that there were no traces of it.

“I got rid of it while I was waiting for the ambulance,” Nita said as she walked into the kitchen and pulled herself up onto the counter. “I broke the door and there was no reason to leave it out for someone to find while you were gone.”

He just looked at her, a frown etched into his face. Shuffling into the kitchen, he leaned back against the counter across from her and let his gaze drop to the floor, body slumping as much as his ribs would allow.

Her eyes trailed over him with concern. “What are you thinking about?”

Crossing his arms, he shook his head. “The fact that I’m just a piece of shit, and that I can’t stop fucking things up for myself.” His eyes burned as he gestured toward her. “I mean, I fucking OD and you’re the one cleaning up after me. We’ve been together a few weeks and I’m already—” his voice cracked, “I’m already putting you through this kind of bullshit. This kind of stupid shit is the whole reason I’m divorced and now I’m throwing it at you too. And, on top of that, I feel guilty whenever I want you, which doesn’t even make sense and just makes me feel like a goddamn asshole because I know that I’m being fucking confusing but I can’t make it stop. I start to think about any bad memories or doubts and my first instinct is to fucking turn my brain off for a few hours because I’m too fucking stupid to figure out a halfway decent way to cope. I can’t trust myself.” He took his hat off and threw it across the counter, running a hand through his hair and down his face. “Now, I’m just ranting at you like a kid throwing a tantrum, as if you have anything to do with all of my bullshit,” he said, smiling bitterly to himself as his throat tightened. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in all this time I’ve been on my own and this is the shit that I pull.”

His jaw clenched as he folded his arms back tight across his chest and shifted his weight.

Nita slipped down off of the counter, crossing the kitchen and stopping in front of him.

“Look at me, Frankie,” she said softly, taking his face in her hands.

His eyes found hers reluctantly.

“There are some things I’m about to say. A lot of it, you already know, but sometimes you have to hear things out loud for them to click. And some of it won’t be very nice to hear. Okay?”

He offered a small nod.

She took a deep breath, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. “You aren’t married anymore, Frankie.”

He instantly tensed, trying to lean away, but she held him in place.

“You are divorced. You’ve been single for the better part of a year. Moving back into your old place isn’t really a possibility. You aren’t—”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Nita—”

“Hush. I’m not done.”

His shoulders sagged.

She studied him for a moment before continuing. “You aren’t cheating on anyone. You aren’t being unfaithful. You’re allowed to date. You can have sex with as many people as you want. You could go to a fucking orgy, if that’s what you want to do!”

He gave a strained laugh as she smiled at him.

“You don’t need to feel guilty whenever I rile you up. You’re allowed to enjoy being intimate with me. You aren’t doing anything wrong. It is perfectly alright to get a blowjob from the lady you met at the bar a few weeks ago. You know, the one who won’t shut up about how sexy you are.”

A smile curled at his mouth and he reached to give her hip a small squeeze.

She brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead, expression turning more serious. “You aren’t happy. You’re the sort of man that the world has chewed up and spit out too many times to count. And you bottle everything up. You lock everything up so tight that your only means of distraction is by forcing bad chemicals with the right effect into your brain so that everything stops hurting for a little while. I know you want to block out all of the shit that went down with you and your friends, but shoving it down isn’t helping anyone. Especially not you. You are an addict. And it’s killing you.”

She heard him take a shaky breath.

She swallowed hard, and leaned forward to press her forehead against his. “Your fucking heart stopped, Frankie.”

He let loose a sob, arms wrapping around her and pulling her close.

She hugged around his neck, hands clasped at his nape. “You need help. And you haven’t really done much to find it for yourself because you’ve become so fucking terrified of being a burden on the people around you. That’s a hard mindset to break out of, and I know it feels impossible sometimes. But people want to help. You are deserving of that help. And I’ll tell you that every fucking day until you believe it, and then I’ll keep telling you anyway.” She went up on her toes and hugged him tighter, face buried in the side of his neck as she tried to keep her voice from faltering with the tears that were rolling down to her chin. “There is a wonderful father who could talk for hours about how much he loves his daughter, and that little girl fucking deserves to have him at her side whenever she needs him.”

Frankie collapsed in on himself, ignoring the throbbing ache in his chest at the movement, shaking as he held onto her and they both cried. When his knees buckled beneath him, she helped him ease down so that they were sitting on the kitchen floor, wrapped up in each other.

They stayed there for a while, holding on as the sobs slowly quieted and the tears just turned into stiff trails on their faces.

Nita ran her fingers through his hair gently. “There’s that therapist that I go to,” she said, voice still rough. “Started seeing her back when the alcoholism was at its worst. The whole place specializes in addiction. First session is the hardest.”

“Okay,” he murmured.

She pressed a light kiss to his temple. “You can come stay with me for a while. I know you don’t like it here.”

He took a breath to say something, but she squeezed her arms around him tighter and continued

“It isn’t just when you’re alone here, Frankie. I’ve seen something in your eyes shut off when we walk in. It’s like...what this place represents in your mind. It breaks you down.”

He curled a strand of her hair around his finger absently. “Yeah,” he admitted.

She sat back enough to look at him. “Let’s pack a bag for you. I don’t care how much, just whatever you think you’ll need for the next few days. We can figure it out from there.”

He nodded lamely, clearing his throat. “Okay.”

She kissed his temple again. “We’ll stop by to pick your truck up tomorrow.”

He straightened, wincing slightly, and ran a hand down his face. “I can take it now.”

“No.”

He startled at the firmness in her voice. “Nita, I ca—”

“No,” she repeated. “I’m driving you to my house and you’re going to rest. We’ll get the truck tomorrow.” There was no room for argument.

He sat there, studying the set of her jaw and the steel in her eyes. “Alright,” he said finally.

She nodded once and stood up, offering him a hand. He took it and gritted his teeth as pain burned through his abdomen when he pulled himself up.

Resting her hands just above his elbows, she helped him steady himself. “Need to be careful with you for a while,” she said, voice light as she gave him a little smile. She rose up on her toes and pecked his cheek. “Let’s go pack you a bag.”


	4. Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie goes to Nita's place for the first time. They get interrupted in the middle of something. Frankie learns a few things about himself, and they get to make up for a few things they've been missing out on since they started dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so damn long. My brain has been pretty fried these past few months. Hopefully, this was worth the wait.

“You know, I’ve lived here for a while and it still surprises me how fucking big Travis County is,” Frankie said, tapping his fingers as he looked out at the houses they drove past. “Are we still in Austin?”

“Honey, we’ve only been driving for twenty minutes.” She glanced over at him with a smile. “We’re still in Austin.”

He shrugged, unable to prevent a little smile of his own. “I just don’t think I’ve ever really come this way. Nothing looks familiar and it’s throwing me off.”

Nita hummed. “And I thought you drove all over for your supply transports. Figured you’d know the county like the back of your hand.”

“Nah. I go to maybe five different places total,” he said with a chuckle. “They occasionally throw in somewhere new, but I can’t say I’ve had to drive past many mansions.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. Everything’s bigger in Texas,” she said matter-of-factly.

He turned to look at her again, silently raising an eyebrow until she caught his eye and he watched her fight to keep a straight face.

“I can kick you out of this car, Frankie,” she threatened, but he heard the amused note in her voice.

“Nope. You like me too much.”

“Oh?” She glanced his way, eyes narrowed. “Is that right?”

He pursed his lips. “Maybe. Maybe not. This is the first time I’m visiting your place, so…”

“I swear…” She shook her head as she looked ahead at the road, a smile tugging at her lips.

A grin stayed on his face, even as he turned his attention back out the window. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he glanced back over at her. “Where are we heading, anyway?” He gestured to the large houses on either side of them with a smirk. “Is one of these yours?”

“No, we’re heading to Spanish Oaks.”

“Spanish Oaks,” he repeated, frowning in concentration. “I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

“Gated community,” Nita supplied, “right around Barton Creek.”

He gave her a surprised look. “Gated? That sounds pretty fancy.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it is. I think it’s nice. Some of the people in the area are snobs though, which can get frustrating.”

“I can only imagine,” he said, shaking his head.

~*~*~*~

After passing through the main gates into Spanish Oaks, Frankie and Nita got wrapped up in discussing their favorite ABBA songs, which quickly turned into the two of them listing their favorite artists from the 70s, all because they’d caught the tail end of “Dancing Queen” when Nita turned the radio up a bit.

The discussion also distracted Frankie to the point that he hadn’t been paying attention to much outside of the car until Nita parked in her driveway and they were both getting out.

“I’m just saying, I like Billy Joel just as much as the next person, and I will absolutely sing along to “Piano Man” whenever I hear it, but I have to go with Stevie Nicks,” he stated, brows raised. “Fleetwood Mac has been my go-to for pretty much my whole life.”

Nita shut her door behind her and went to open the back. “Alright, I completely understand that. Now, just consider—” she held up a hand as she paused. “Stevie Wonder.”

Frankie pursed his lips thoughtfully, lifting his hat to scratch at his forehead. “Well, shit.”

“Exactly!”

He just snorted and shook his head at her. “Yeah, yeah.”

Nita slung his duffle bag over her shoulder and pushed the door closed with her hip. As she walked back around the car, she looked over to find Frankie staring up at the house.

“What?” she asked.

He blinked incredulously. “This is where you live?”

She frowned. “Yes. Why?”

“Nita, this is a mansion,” he told her, shifting his wide eyes to her.

“I don’t know about that,” she said. “It’s a big house, but I don’t know if it qualifies as a mansion.”

“It’s a mansion.”

With a sigh, she started making her way to the front door. Frankie took another second to gaze at the house before he was following her.

“Are you the only one that lives here?” he asked as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“Yep. Just me.” She kicked her shoes off onto a mat just inside the door and he did the same. “I’ll have people over for parties or movie nights sometimes. Anyone too tired or drunk to make it home is free to crash in the bedrooms or on the couches. It’s nice when I have guests, y’know?” She made a face. “Even if the clean-up gets a little iffy.”

“Oh? Are those some potential stories I hear?”

Nita flashed him a grin. “They might be. You’ll just have to stick around for a bit to hear them.”

“I don’t think I’ll have any problems with that,” he said, smiling right back.

“Such a flirt,” she mused. “Let me go drop this off in the bedroom really quick.”

He watched her walk down the hall with his duffle bag, leaving him in what he assumed was the living room. 

There was one of those big, L-shaped sectionals and two plush looking chairs facing a TV. It was definitely a big space, but it didn’t quite fit what he would’ve expected the inside of a mansion to be like. It wasn’t minimalistic or particularly grandiose. Apart from the sheer amount of space, it was fairly normal. Neat, but still personal, with pictures on the walls and mismatched knick-knacks almost overcrowding the shelves. A stack of mail on the coffee table, next to a little set of coasters. Instead of a tasteful throw, there were what seemed like three different, brightly colored blankets haphazardly folded over the back of the sofa. 

It just felt like Nita’s home.

Frankie turned back toward the hall when he heard her coming. She brushed by him as she made her way into the kitchen.

“Do you want a drink or anything?” she asked, opening up the fridge and grabbing a can of ginger ale. “I have Coke, orange soda, some La Croixs, ginger ale.” She turned to him with raised brows.

“I’m fine for right now,” he said, taking the room in as he walked around the bar. “Thanks, though.”

He glanced over at the table, which sat right between the kitchen and the doors that led out to the backyard. There was a nice looking patio area and—

“Is that a pool?”

“No, it’s a flooded half-pipe.”

Frankie shot her a look that made her laugh as she grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets. “Yes, it’s a pool.”

He just shook his head again, shuffling over to the kitchen table. Pulling out one of the chairs, he eased himself down, trying not to bend forward too much as he did so. “We spent all that time in my shitty apartment while you had a place like this.”

“And who’s the one that kept inviting me over?” she said, giving him a look. “Besides, we’re here now.” She walked over to the table and stood in front of him, setting her glass down. She smirked as she cupped his face and bent to kiss his cheek. “So stop whining.”

“I’m not whining,” he huffed, even as he leaned into her kiss.

“Sure.” She pulled his hat off and set it backwards on her own head, moving to peck his lips.

He reached up for the hand on his face, taking hold of her wrist lightly and trailing a thumb over her skin. “I’m not.”

Smiling against his lips, she slid a hand into his hair. “Right.” She was standing between his legs now, eyes shut as she kissed him.

“Sit?” he offered quietly, breaking away to look at her.

Her fingers trailed along his jaw. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He squeezed her wrist and grinned. “I think I’ll be okay.” His free hand moved up to her hip, pulling her forward.

She scoffed but did nothing to hide the way the corners of her lips rose as she straddled his lap. Both of his hands dropped down to her hips and she scooted closer, not quite pressing flush against his chest.

He rested his forehead against hers, brown eyes warm. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” she whispered, fingers combing through his hair before she bit her lip. “Y’know, I feel a little stupid for not really putting it together that Frankie is short for _Francisco_.”

Shifting in the seat a little, he shrugged a shoulder. “Everyone has always just called me Frankie. Or Catfish, after I joined the army.”

She made a face. “God, why did you guys get such shitty nicknames?”

“Fuck you,” he said, chuckling.

She kissed his lips again as she laughed. “At least Jack isn’t as much of a stretch.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a stretch? Juanita to Juan, Juan to John, John to Jack?”

“It was about the fucking Billy Joel song,” she said with a scoff. “That other shit was just to connect it more to my actual name.” She let her nails drag over his scalp, earning a contented sigh from him. “And I like your name. _Francisco_ sounds nice.”

His face was beginning to feel warm and he had to shift in the chair again.

Nita leaned back, hands leaving his hair and resting on his shoulders as she looked him over, concern in her eyes. “You okay? Was I leaning on your chest too much?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m alright. Just trying to get more comfortable.”

“You sure?” she asked, kneading his shoulders gently.

“Promise,” he said, squeezing her hips. He tilted his head forward, hiding a grin. “I like it when you play with my hair.”

She gave a gruff _“necesitado”_ and moved back into place, running her fingers through his hair once again as they leaned into each other. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty, _Francisco_.”

Heat spread down his neck and he tightened his hold on her hips to adjust her on his lap, suddenly registering the fact that he was getting hard. He shifted his hands so that his thumbs rested above the waistband of her jeans and brushed her bare skin under her shirt.

She tugged his hair just enough to make him lean back, fixing him with a knowing look. “Now I see why you’re getting restless,” she said with a coy grin. “Don’t get too excited, honey, you’re still healing.”

“My lips aren’t bruised,” he said, pouting slightly for emphasis.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, pecking his lips again as she smiled. “You’ve got me there, _Francisco_.”

They both felt how his cock twitched that time. He glanced down.

Oh.

He looked up to find Nita’s eyes shining mischievously.

_Oh._

“Interesting,” she said lowly as his face flushed. “And I thought it was just the hair.” Her grip on his hair tightened a bit and she leaned in to capture his mouth fully, his hands sliding down to hold her thighs. She didn’t press into his chest, but used her elbows on his shoulders to push him against the back of the chair and to steady herself as she slowly rocked her hips.

He groaned, squeezing her thighs and pushing them wider to get her that little bit closer. His instinctive buck up against her shot pain across his ribs, making him grunt softly before he focused on staying still, savoring the way she ground down on his lap.

“You feel so good, _Francisco_ ,” she whispered against his mouth, grinding slowly over the erection in his jeans.

His low moan seemed to fill the kitchen, only ending when she deepened the kiss. She trailed her fingers along his scruffy jawline, her tongue brushing his and coaxing more muffled groans out of him as he moved to cup her ass with both hands. 

As much as he enjoyed the moments like this, a part of him was already bracing for the inevitable guilt that always showed up before they could get very far. Tension pulled across his shoulders no matter how much he tried to relax them, even as his mouth and hands moved fluidly with her.

“Of all the times to learn a new turn on,” she said, bringing her lips to a spot under his jaw as she tugged his head back further, “had to be while you’re all banged up.”

He let out a wheeze of laughter, eyelids fluttering when her teeth grazed over his pulse.

She scooted back on his lap a fraction, one hand leaving his hair and he made a disappointed sound in the back of his throat.

It was quickly replaced by a sharp gasp when that hand pressed down on his cock, making him jolt in the chair. He let out a gravelly _“fuck”_ and tightened his grip on her.

Frankie could feel her smiling against his neck. A firm squeeze had him moaning her name and shifting his legs wider. She smoothed her hand over him, slowly stroking him through his jeans as she rolled her hips against one of his thighs.

“Good?” she breathed against his throat.

He squeezed her ass again, groaning “ _Yes_.”

She pulled back slightly, giving a satisfied hum, and looked him over. His eyes were closed, brows raised a bit, lips parted. She could see the slight flush on his face and neck, as well as the spot along the side of his neck that was a shade or two darker, right where she’d been focusing her attention.

One of his eyes peeked open, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Be better if you were kissing me again,” he mused.

“You getting mouthy with me, _Francisco_?” she teased, pressing her hand down on him a little harder.

His eyes squeezed shut again as he held back another moan, voice coming out strained. “Maybe.”

She leaned in again, gently nipping his lower lip. “It’s probably not a good idea to ride you right now,” she whispered into his mouth.

His responding moan was almost pained.

“But,” her hand slowly trailed up from his crotch to his belt buckle, “I can always suck your cock instead.”

“Fuck, Nita,” he breathed, one hand coming up to tangle in her hair and pull her mouth to his in desperation.

It was her turn to moan softly as she relaxed in his hold, fingers still working at his belt. The warmth of his palm where it cradled the back of her head made everything feel molten and electric. His fingers nudged the hat up a little higher on her head.

She’d just gotten his belt undone when they were suddenly jolting apart at the sound of her phone ringing on the counter.

Nita cursed, throwing a glare toward her phone. She turned her attention back to Frankie even as she moved off of his lap, offering him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ve been waiting for a call about an order that’s supposed to come in today.”

He just gave a dismissive wave, still catching his breath. “It’s fine. I should—” he cleared his throat, running a hand down his face and through his hair, “I should probably take a shower anyway.”

“Okay.” She leaned down to press a softer kiss to his lips. “I am sorry, honey.”

With one last shared look, she turned around and went to snatch up her phone.

Frankie sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to calm his racing heart before standing up to go take that shower.

It was while he was actually in the shower that he realized something. Even though things had ended right around where they usually did, he didn’t feel the lingering cold or heaviness that tended to take up space deep in his chest whenever he and Nita got a little intimate. He’d gotten so used to bracing for that guilt that it took him a while to notice that it hadn’t crept up on him this time.

In that same space, he just felt a warm sort of buzz instead. And it was a very welcome change.

~*~*~*~

After Frankie got out of the shower, Nita gave him a quick tour of the house. He was working very hard to keep his jaw from dropping open, especially when they went upstairs and walked into the movie theater. There was a movie theater _in the house!_

Around 5 o’clock, Nita started getting ready for work, having decided to get there early to make sure everything was going smoothly with the stuff that she had ordered and to have it at least mostly set up before the club opened.

Frankie spent most of that time making sure he understood how the big flat screen in the living room worked. He could barely figure out how his phone worked a lot of the time, and this TV seemed even more complex than that.

“You have to hold down the button on the bottom left. It just has a line on it,” Nita was instructing him, having to yell from the master bedroom.

He scowled at the remote in frustration. “It’s not working!”

“Hold it longer!”

After holding the button for longer than one second, the menu he was looking for appeared at the top of the screen. “Oh.”

Nita walked out of the bedroom a moment later. “Did you get it?”

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, glancing her way, “thank you.” Then, he was doing a double take, mild embarrassment forgotten as he watched her walk by the back of the couch.

She was wearing a suit. A three-piece, navy suit that fit her _very well._ There were silver cufflinks that matched the silver tie-clip, which was clipped to the burgundy tie that matched the burgundy pocket square. It all looked _very good_ on her.

“Do you—do you have a business meeting?” There was the faintest waver in his voice.

Shuffling through a small stack of papers on the kitchen counter, Nita didn’t seem to notice the change. “No, this is just what I usually wear to work. I thought I mentioned the suits,” she said.

“You did. I just…” he shook his head, still staring. “You look nice.”

She flashed him a sweet little smile. “Thank you. I feel nice.” Exchanging the papers for her car keys, she made her way over to where he sat on the couch. “You look nice, too,” she told him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss that made his heart skip.

“Yeah, an old t-shirt and jeans are incredibly fashionable,” he said, chuckling.

Rolling her eyes, she let her fingers brush through his hair. “Just because you’re wearing comfortable clothes doesn’t mean you look any less nice.”

He smirked. “You might be a little biased.”

“I thought you said I didn’t like you because it’s the first time you’ve seen my house.”

“Nah, I know you like me. Why else would you put up with my technological struggles?”

She laughed. “You know, it makes me feel a little iffy about the whole army pilot thing,” she teased.

“Helicopters make sense, though.” He gestured toward the TV. “This shit is _made_ to be confusing.”

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “TV add-ons exist to antagonize you, hmm?” 

“They do!”

She just shook her head, looking him over with fond amusement. “Just try not to break it, okay?” Her nails gently grazed his scalp and the sensation swept down his spine. “There’s all kinds of stuff in the kitchen whenever you decide to have dinner. I made baked spaghetti the other day and there’s leftovers if you’re interested.” She bent to give him one last kiss. “I need to get going. Call me if you need anything, alright?”

He grinned up at her. “I’ll be fine. What time are you getting back?”

“I usually make it here a little after midnight,” she said with a shrug. “Not exactly a normal workday sort of business.”

“I’ll see you then.”

She gave a small wave as she headed toward the front door. “See you. And make sure you rest!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he called back, sneaking a look at her retreating form when she turned away.

As soon as the front door closed behind her, he groaned, letting his head fall against the back of the couch as he covered his face.

_That fucking suit._

~*~*~*~

He spent most of his time wandering around the house or lounging on the couch with a movie. At one point, he thought about trying to play a video game, but given that he hadn’t really touched one since Santi found a copy of Halo to play using a base’s XBox years ago, he wasn’t terribly confident in his ability to set it up.

The pain meds he’d been sent home with were making it easier to get up and move around without much incident, but he wasn’t going to be doing toe touches anytime soon. He also wasn’t able to comfortably pop his back, which was a far more pressing annoyance.

He didn’t realize just how much time had passed until his eyelids were drooping and he couldn’t focus on the movie he’d put on anymore.

Nita would get back soon, so he brought his dinner plate to the sink and threw out his empty can of orange soda. He made sure the few dishes were washed before he shuffled into the bedroom to change and get ready for bed.

It was while he was brushing his teeth that he heard the front door open and the faint jingle of Nita’s keys.

“Honey?” she called.

“Bathroom,” he replied, voice slightly muffled by toothpaste before he spat into the sink.

He didn’t think to brace himself before she walked into the bedroom and stopped in the doorway of the en suite. One glance toward her and his eyes went wide just like they had before she left, heart rate rising.

Jesus Christ, she wore this sort of thing _every time_ she went to work? He was going to lose his mind while he was staying with her.

She seemed amused, brows lifting at his reaction. “What’s that look about?”

He just shook his head, feeling a little warm in the face as his eyes dropped back down to the sink.

She walked into the bathroom and stopped at his side, brushing a hand across his shoulders as she leaned a hip against the counter. “What?” she prodded gently.

He rinsed off his toothbrush, taking a few seconds to respond. “You look nice.”

“You said that before I left, Frankie,” she said, smirking as she played with the curling hair at his nape.

“I know.” He turned to her, jaw rocking as he tried to convey himself. “I _really_ mean it.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay…”

Sighing in frustration, he reached out to draw her closer and rest his hand in the curve of her waist. The corners of her mouth lifted as he gazed down at her. “When you said that you wore suits to work,” he said, voice low, “I didn’t realize just how sexy that would be.”

“So, that’s what the look was about,” she mused.

His eyes drifted down to her lips. “Yeah.”

She rose up just enough to press a warm kiss to his lips, still twirling his hair around her fingers.

When they broke apart, she smiled. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

~*~*~*~

Sleep lingered for a while, leaving him to slowly drift closer to consciousness. He was comfortable, he knew that much. The sheets smelled clean and familiar. The people in the apartment upstairs either weren’t up yet or they had already left, and he considered himself lucky for that. They made so much noise in the mornings and he always felt bad about that when Nita stayed over.

Nita.

As more awareness crept in, he felt the subtle weight pressing against his arm. Opening his eyes felt like a Herculean task, but he squinted over to his left.

She was on her side, facing him, clearly still asleep. Dark hair surrounded her head, a few strands that had fallen in front of her face were now gently disturbed with each breath. One hand was tucked against her chest, the other lay curled against his arm.

He turned his head toward the nightstand to check the time, frowning when his alarm clock wasn’t there. When did he buy a new lamp?

He settled further into consciousness and turned back to Nita. Right. They were at her place now.

Carefully, chest twinging and aching with every move, he rolled onto his side to look at her. The meds he’d taken before falling asleep were clearly wearing off, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much yet.

His hand covered hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles and tracing her fingers. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here. After the big downward spiral that had happened a little over a year ago, he had been existing in anxious monotony, just waiting for the next thing to knock his feet out from under him. 

In a way, he was still waiting for that. Getting hit so hard with bad memories that he’d put himself in the hospital wasn’t exactly an improvement. As bad as that had gone, as bad as that _could have_ gone, the brunt of it only took up one morning.

And how many mornings had been like this, these last few weeks? Where he felt reluctant to leave bed, not to avoid the day, but to have just a few more minutes of quiet with her. They could just lay here and enjoy each other’s warmth, stay tucked close until the last possible moment.

Maybe, something that had gone missing from his life wasn’t quite missing anymore.

Nita stirred, her hand twitching under his as she shifted closer. Her eyes barely opened before falling shut again. “Morning,” she mumbled.

He grinned, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. “Good morning.”

Her eyes opened again, staying that way this time, though she was still squinting against the dim light. “I like your morning voice,” she informed him, lips quirking up.

“My morning voice?”

“Mm-hmm.” She gently freed her hand from his hold and trailed her fingertips up his arm. “Soft and raspy and deep. It’s nice.”

He flushed a bit, reaching to brush the hair out of her face and letting his hand settle against her cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he said softly. “And I like your morning voice too.”

“Sap,” she whispered, smiling against his palm.

“You started it.”

She laughed.

He’d never get enough of her laugh.

“How are you feeling? Do you need to take something yet?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’m alright for now. I’ll take something once we make coffee.” His thumb lightly traced her lower lip and he could feel her watching him before he brought his eyes back up to hers.

“ _Francisco,_ ” she breathed, gently kissing the pad of his thumb.

It warmed him from the inside out and he was leaning in before he knew it.

Her lips were soft and moved with his languidly, setting a slow and leisurely pace. He could feel himself sinking into it when the kiss deepened, unhurried as he explored her mouth, hands roaming down to skim over her bare thigh and grip her hip.

Her hands were in his hair, combing through the stuck up and messy curls. She scooted closer and he wrapped both arms around her, ignoring the burning ache across his ribcage.

She shivered when his hand slid under her shirt, fingers brushing up her spine, a low moan muffled against his mouth.

He was becoming increasingly aware of an entirely different ache, this one making him consider adjusting his boxers, but he decided against it since that would mean letting go of Nita.

His heart skipped when her knee nudged up by his hip, not quite hooking around him, and he swiftly gave in. “I want you,” he groaned, a hand cupping her ass and drawing her closer.

She didn’t miss his slight wince at the move, shaking her head and holding his face in her hands. “We can’t do that, honey.”

“Fuck,” he grunted, leaning his forehead against hers. They were both breathing a little heavily, one of his hands still under her shirt, drawing circles over her back. He let out a long exhale and shifted back enough to meet her eyes, biting his lip thoughtfully. “What if...you sit on the edge of the bed? And I’ll kneel on the floor?”

Her brows shot up. “Oh?” She moved closer again, glancing down at his mouth. “Is that what you want?” she asked.

He nodded, lips parting as she kissed him again.

“I want that, _Francisco_.”

He peppered kisses across her face, drawing that laugh out of her again, before he slid back and off of the bed, easing down onto the floor with a wide grin.

She shuffled over, sharing his smile as she arranged herself on the edge of the bed. “Do I need to take anything off? Not really wearing much to begin with.” She traced a finger down his nose.

He smoothed his hands down his thighs before he trailed them up her calves. “I’ve got it,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her knee.

She leaned back, holding herself up so she could watch as his lips trailed slowly from her knee and up her inner thigh, his touch featherlight across her skin. As he moved higher, she let her thighs fall open wider, chewing her lip. She sucked in a breath when his teeth grazed her skin, his eyes meeting hers.

Kissing him had already gotten her started, but then having him offer to get on his knees and eat her out had ensured that she was thoroughly turned on. Now, just seeing it, feeling him work his way closer, was only adding to the arousal that was steadily burning through her.

The scruff along his jaw added just enough roughness to set her nerves alight and draw out quiet sighs, making her eyes slip shut.

He was almost where she needed him when he began pressing hot, open kisses to her inner thighs, his tongue a soothing contrast to the faint nips and scratch of facial hair.

“I didn’t realize you were a _tease,_ honey,” she crooned, tangling a hand in his hair.

He chuckled, breath huffing over her skin. “Just want to be sure.”

“I’m _very_ sure.”

“Alright,” he laughed, “point taken.” One more soft kiss and he was leaning back, letting her legs close before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them down her legs.

He shuffled closer, drawing one of her thighs up over his shoulder and making her flop onto her back with a laugh. “You are so gorgeous, baby,” he said, brushing his cheek against her inner thigh and locking eyes with her as she smiled at him.

“Totally a sap,” she teased, making him roll his eyes and grin as he leaned in.

The first brush of his tongue had her sliding both hands into his hair. He pushed her thighs open wider, delving between her folds with a groan. His mouth was so hot against her, tongue scorching with each lick over her pussy. 

The tip of his nose brushed her clit and her hold on his hair tightened in response. He moaned, pressing deeper into her pussy and skimming his hands along her thighs. She tensed and relaxed under his hands, body shifting with every tilt of his head as he worked her over.

Arousal warmed her skin, pleasure tingling through her and slowly coiling tighter and tighter. She leaned her head back into the mattress, lips parting with a faint huff.

He brought his attention to her clit, his mouth going soft, tongue laving gently as her back arched.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “Just like that, _Francisco._ ”

Nita tugged on his hair, sending pinpricks of pleasure down his spine. Sucking her clit between his lips, he traced the tip of his tongue over the bundle, her responding moan filling the quiet room and setting off a little spark of pride within him.

The heel of her foot pressed into his back, drew him impossibly closer, and he was happy to give in. He opened his eyes, taking in the sight of her, arched and breathless. Lifting her other thigh up onto his shoulder, the muscles trembling faintly, he slid a hand up her side. He stopped at her breast, tracing her nipple through the thin sleep shirt.

She moaned his name, covering his hand with one of her own and rolling her hips to meet his face. “So fucking good,” she praised. Her grip on his hair tightened further, pulling a moan from him. The vibration made her shiver, adding another level of stimulation right against her clit.

His tongue dipped back down and slid into her pussy as he buried his face between her thighs, mouth fully engulfing her.

“Yes, _Francisco,_ ” she breathed. “Close.”

Frankie was already long gone, breathless with the need to tip her over the edge, the way she moaned his name and writhed under his mouth completely fogging his mind with pleasure. He swiped the tip of his tongue across her clit, adding more pressure until the prickle of her hold on his hair turned sharp and her thighs tensed around his head.

The sound she made as she came almost had him following suit. He kept going, bringing the pressure back down slowly, softly kneading her breast. When she was moaning quietly, limbs almost entirely limp, he finally sat back, panting. The burning ache across his ribs was nothing compared to his contented happiness.

He let his gaze trail over her. Skin flushed and warm, her chest still heaving, eyes closed and lips parted as she came back down to Earth. Her thighs still spread open and pussy in full view, shining with her arousal, same as his face.

She pushed herself up slowly, running a hand through her own hair and meeting his eyes with a satisfied smile, which he returned.

“I always like waking up to you, honey, but that was…” Nita sighed, leaning her head back. _“Fuck.”_

He chuckled under his breath. “That was my application for the boyfriend position. How’d I do?”

“We’ll definitely take you under consideration.” She bit back a grin, lightly knocking her foot against his thigh.

He huffed playfully. “Damn. Really thought I’d get it with that.”

She giggled, reaching out to comb through his hair, which she’d thoroughly ruffled. She leaned down closer to him. “After further consideration, it’s been determined that you don’t need to apply for a position that you already hold.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now, are you gonna kiss me?”

He closed the small gap between them in answer, cupping her face and winding his fingers into her hair.

She groaned softly at the taste of herself on his lips, hands brushing up his arms. She could feel him smile into the kiss just before they broke apart.

“Do you still have that fancy coffee?” he asked.

She almost snorted. “Our minds are in two very different places right now.”

“I can be thinking about more than one thing at a time.”

“Oh, yeah?” She squeezed one of his shoulders.

“I should wipe my face,” he mumbled.

Her hands came up to cup his jaw. “Should you?”

Exhaling slowly through his nose, he touched his forehead to hers. “Honey…”

“Okay, you do things your way,” she said, drawing back. “But if you’d like an idea of what I want to do…” She tilted her head, throwing a very pointed look downward.

He was quick to stand up, grunting in discomfort for more than just his chest, a blush warming his cheeks as he tried to discreetly adjust himself on his way to the bathroom.

Reappearing a moment later with a damp cloth and a clean face, he wiped away the bit of slick he’d gotten on her face when they kissed and then brought the cloth down between her legs. He made quick work of cleaning her up, but suddenly slowed.

She thought he was just being overly gentle until the cloth brushed, rather deliberately, against her sensitive clit.

Nita cursed, slapping his hand away while he laughed. “You’re the one who wanted coffee, _payaso_.” She swatted at his ass when he turned to drop the rag into the hamper. _“Vamos!”_

He gave her a pout, saying “I’m not a clown,” as she stood up to pull her underwear back on and follow him out of the bedroom. He reached back to offer his hand, which she took after a moment, rolling her eyes.

“You’re something.”

He grinned, the dimple in his cheek immediately making her own expression soften. _“Soy el novio,”_ he said cheerily.

She squeezed his hand. _“Sí lo eres.”_

When they got to the kitchen, he stopped and pulled her close. “I don’t know where the coffee is,” he told her.

She pointed. “The cabinet over the coffee maker.”

His gaze fell on the coffee maker and he nodded. “Right.” Shuffling over, he opened the cabinet and started pulling things down to get the coffee ready.

“Frankie.”

He glanced back at her. “Yeah?”

“I can make the coffee,” she said, smirking.

He just shrugged. “I got it.”

She watched him measure out beans and put them in the grinder for a few seconds. Next thing she knew, her gaze had shifted from what he was doing to just admiring him. Unruly hair that was just a little too long and so incredibly soft, broad shoulders under an old t-shirt, toned arms that, based on her own experience, were perfect for falling asleep in, long legs that were just as nice, along with what she considered to be a very cute little butt.

She crossed the short distance to him right as he poured the ground coffee into a filter and set it in the coffee maker. She wrapped her arms around him, mindful of his ribs, and kissed his shoulder. “I have a proposition.”

“Alright.”

“I got that call about the shipment yesterday,” she began slowly.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Yeah?”

“We got interrupted.” She let her hands move down a few inches. “And I’d really like to pick up where we left off. Do what I was gonna do before the call.”

The warm flush from earlier returned full force as he swallowed hard, trying to wrap the bag of coffee beans back up. “Yeah?” he repeated, voice straining.

She hummed, hands now tracing the waistband of his boxers. “What do you think?” One hand lowered the slightest bit further. “I couldn’t help but notice that you looked a little _stiff_ when we left bed.”

He’d slowly been bringing himself down, cock starting to soften as he ignored it to keep her from feeling like she had to return the favor. He’d been wanting to make her feel good since that first night at his apartment, and he got a lot out of knowing he’d done just that before they’d gotten out of bed.

But now he was aching all over again. “I think—I think you’re the tease now.”

“Let’s fix that,” she said softly. She reached further and cupped him through his boxers, giving him a firm squeeze.

His mouth fell open and he gripped the edge of the countertop, a rough moan rising up from deep in his chest, his eyes falling shut. She carefully turned him around so he could lean back against the counter, readjusting her hold on his cock as she pressed her lips to his throat. He opened his eyes, lids feeling heavy with lust as he blinked down at her.

She seemed very pleased with his reaction. “You are _very_ good with that mouth, honey.” She rose up higher, kissing the corner of his mouth before lowering her voice. “And the fact that eating me out made you this hard is so fucking _sexy_.”

He rested a hand at her hip. “Jesus, baby…”

Her lips brushed along his jaw as she traced her thumb over his clothed length. “I want to suck your cock, _Francisco_ ,” she whispered near his ear.

_“Please,”_ he ground out.

Nita pulled back with a coy grin. Without wasting another second, she tugged his boxers down and slid down onto her knees. Her nails lightly dragged up along the outsides of his thighs as she kissed from his hip bones inward. She took hold of him, steadying his heavy cock and running the flat of her tongue over the head, glancing up into his eyes.

Two dark, lust blown gazes met and Nita closed her lips around the head of him, sucking gently. He could feel himself throb, his grip on the counter tightening as arousal burned through his veins. 

It had been a while for him. He already felt so close to the edge.

The tip of her tongue pressed into the underside of his cock, just under the crown, and he cursed, a hand reaching to slip into her hair. Her pleased hum sent jolts of electricity across his nerves. She bobbed steadily, taking a bit more of him into her mouth each time. He was almost dizzy when he reached the back of her throat, biting his lip hard.

She looked up at him again, watching the tendons in his neck stand out as he strained to keep himself from losing it. His eyes were closed and he was trying not to breathe too hard. As she drew back, she couldn’t help but smirk a bit.

She worked her way back down his shaft until he was at the back of her throat again. Then, she kept going forward, taking him deeper until her lips were wrapped around the base, nose pressing into the coarse hair just above it.

Her jaw ached and her eyes were watering, drool sliding down her chin. But it was beyond worth it when she swallowed around his cock and he made the most breathtakingly broken sound she’d ever heard.

His whole body trembled at the feeling, brow furrowed and mouth dropping open. 

She drew back far enough to breathe, pressing her tongue up against the vein that ran along the underside of his shaft, and cupped his balls in one hand.

On instinct, his fingers tangled further in her hair and he gave a slight, jerky thrust of his hips. He gritted his teeth. “Shit, baby, I’m so—“

She took him down her throat again, gently massaging his balls, and his voice died. His whole body buzzed with pleasure and he couldn’t hold back when she swallowed this time. He came undone with a low moan of her name, knuckles white where he gripped the counter.

She drew off of him slowly, taking everything he gave until his shoulders sagged in blissful relief and his knees were close to giving out beneath him.

They were both panting, her sitting back, teary eyed with spit around her lips and chin, him leaning heavily against the counter, head tilted back. Nita got to her feet after a moment and grabbed a napkin to dab at her eyes and wipe her mouth. She also took the liberty of pulling Frankie’s boxers back up his legs, patting his hip as she smiled up at him.

“So. Coffee?” she asked, voice a little rough.

Frankie huffed a laugh, pulling her into a lazy kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> ¡Hola jefa! ¿Necesitas otro? - Hey, boss. Need another one?  
> Y creo que esos idiotas de atrás necesitan otra ronda, si no te importa. - And I think those idiots in the back need another round, if you don’t mind.  
> ¿Cuánto cuesta? - How much?  
> Nada. Estás cubierto. - Nothing. You’re covered.  
> La jefa se encargó de eso. - The boss took care of it.


End file.
